--

She typed with heavy hands, leaden with the weight of idea and the hefty feel of expectations.There that girl was, all bustle and bounce, who announced her words to the world and did not just speak. Her want to fly through a net of unfounded ideals and ungrounded dreams was overwhelming and her daydream was where she dwelled these dark days. The cold barely left her bones and yawns would strike her often for she felt old and worn, already fully lived. She was haunted by two taunting pasts, both mocking her from balconys and looking down on where she walked along life. Her shoulders were buckling under burdening time, running out but getting heavier every second less. She wanted dramatic skies and cathedral wide shoulders of a man asleep and the scrawl of someone forgotton. She clawed after the idea of change, of feeling at home elsewhere, but for now she played the waiting game. Waiting. The want.